Your Good Arm - Inlets

These open hands react in cold air like your old rubber bands

But I’ve got it set, I’ll wear kid gloves and I won’t get them wet

Now don’t make that face at me

I’ll count the lines across your squinting eyes

I was one

Mirror the architecture of this city

I will do all things wrong and pretty

In the hands you held, cold and stark

Raising your good arm like a force-fed king